


The wind that shakes two souls

by Cibbs



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Doctor - Freeform, M/M, Mad with grief, Morphine, Nurse - Freeform, Pajamas, bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 05:32:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13851126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cibbs/pseuds/Cibbs
Summary: When Hannibal is diagnosed with a terminal illness, feelings rise to the surface





	The wind that shakes two souls

It was sunrise. Hannibal closed his eyes tightly and opened them again. A delicious aroma woke up him completely. Will was standing in front of him, dressed with his green silk dressing gown. He had a metallic tray between his hands in which were a cup of coffee, a small milk jug and a cylindrical can.

  
“Good morning, Han.” He whispered, placing the tray on the bed and stacking the pillows to sit his comrade up.

“Hello, Will.”

Hannibal pulled the sleeve broad of his comrade’s coat, making Will to sit beside him.

  
“It turns out that…” The young man started to say. “… I have found the Danish cookies.” And pointed at the white can on the tray. “I thought you would like them.”  
“Thank you.” Said Hannibal, smiling. “Come now, help yourself.”

  
Will sat down in the bed, opened the can and took four cookies, one of each kind. The young man wasn’t calmed. A couple of hours later, they would go to see Henry Callahan, the haematologist, who would confirm their suspicions. He wanted to extend as much as possible the moments in which Hannibal was unaware of his condition. But the new was inevitable.

  
When breakfast was finished, Will moved the tray away and Hannibal stood up. He got to the wardrove and took a dark blue velvet three-piece suit, a white shirt and a grey silk tie embroidered with tiny golden paisley and started to dress himself.

  
Will knocked on his loved one’s room door. His attire was more informal and consisted in a pair of khaki corduroy trousers, a purple, white and black tartan shirt, brown lace shoes and a leather jacket in the same colour.

  
Hannibal gave Will the key of his Bentley before sitting in the right seat in the front. None of them said a word in the way to the hospital and the only soundtrack they had was the sound of the windscreen wiper, because it was raining torrentially.

  
From Will’s eyes tears tried to well up but, fortunately, he was able to prevent it.

  
At last, they arrived. Will parked the Bentley, but some minutes would pass before he decided to get out of the vehicle and open Hannibal’s door.

  
“Courage, old friend.” Said Will, taking Hannibal’s hand. “Courage.”

  
Hannibal tried to say something, but his words were inaudible. He was terrified and fear weakened his limbs in such a way he had to hold himself in Will to walk to the hospital’s door. The young man got his lips nearer to Hannibal’s ear.

  
“I am here.” He whispered. “Come what may, I am here.”

  
When they were called, Will and Hannibal came into doctor Callahan’s office. At least, the doubt would be resolved.  
Doctor, patient and companion greeted themselves before sitting in the desk. Doctor Callahan took from a black leather portfolio a report with Hannibal’s name and surname and started to read it. Will’s ears were only capable of hearing some of the words:

“Outside the normal rank. Weakness. No remedy.” And the most terrible of all. “Acute myeloid leukaemia.”

  
Those three words were a great blow for Will, but Hannibal listened to them with the serenity which was characteristic of him in front of his colleagues. He said goodbye to the haematologist with a polite handshake before putting on his black wool coat and leather gloves. Will was incapable of saying a word while he felt his soul ripping into pieces.

* * *

  
Will opened his eyes and looked at the window. It wasn’t sunrise yet. He was lying on Hannibal’s bed, hugging his friend. Very carefully, he managed to separate from him and stood up. He put on his slippers and his glasses and sat on the desk, in which was a white paper envelope with the laboratory’s emblem. He was going to re-read the report for the thousandth time, because he didn’t believe there was no cure for his loved one. But when he tried to take the envelope, he discovered Hannibal’s tablet.  
Will refused that he would die in a hospital, all surrounded by white walls, so he decided that the best thing to do was to look for a nurse who could look after him at home. Surfing the Internet, he found the Nightingale Agency, specialised in home care. The front page presented several nurses working, and dressed in the traditional way. Will didn’t know why, but the agency gave him confidence. He opened his e-mail and started typing.

  
Hannibal woke up a couple of hours later. Breakfast was served on the table. Will was sitting in the armchair, with a blanket covering his legs. He turned his head when he felt Hannibal’s fingers touching his cheekbones and tangling in his hair curls. He closed his eyes before getting his lips nearer to his mate’s back of the hand. He was wearing green satin pyjamas with very thin yellow lines, closed by golden cord frog buttons and a pair of black velvet slippers. Will hugged Hannibal and made him lie on the bed. The young man took off his slippers before doing the same thing, unbutton his pyjama shirt, taking his friend’s hand and placing it in his chest. Hannibal’s fingers went up and down the young man’s thick hair and stopped when he felt his heartbeat, as regular as a clock tick tock. From Will’s lips, a groan of pleasure escaped while he delicately closed his eyes. Hannibal took advantage of the occasion to kiss his eyelids and biting his ear. Will sat on the bed and started to speak very slowly:

  
“Han, we need to talk.”

  
“Well...” The psychiatrist said with a guffaw. “… That has never been a good starting.”

  
Will smiled.

  
“No. It isn’t what you think.” The young man answered in a very soft voice. “Nothing happens. I have hired a nurse to help me take care of you.”

  
Hannibal hugged his friend.

  
“It’s a good idea. Thank you, Will.”

  
And he kissed his lips. Will poured another cup of tea and took a biscuit. But he was sad, because he was going to lose a friend.

* * *

 

Will turned on the bathtub’s tap. Hannibal heard the water bubbling from his bedroom. When the bathtub was full, the young man took off his slippers, coat and pyjamas and got into the water. The psychiatrist accompanied him some minutes later. He lied down next to his friend and analysed his hands. The silver ring that he had given some months before was missing.

  
“Wow!” Hannibal exclaimed with a sarcastic laughter. “I’m not dead yet and there’s another boy.”

  
“No.” Said Will, a bit upset because of his friend suspicion. “I must have forgotten it in the shooting range.”

  
“I’m sorry, Will” Hannibal said in a sad voice.

  
“Don’t worry.”

  
When the water got cold, the lovers got off the bathtub and wrapped themselves in two white cotton bath robes.  
A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. Will dressed himself in a rush and went to answer the visitor. When he opened, he found a nurse. He wore the traditional uniform, consisting in a pale blue dress hugged to the waist with a red elastic belt with a silver buckle.

  
“My name is Rebeca Fitzgerald.” He said in a sweet but reliable voice. “I am send by the Nightingale Agency. I think that you required a nurse.”

  
“Indeed. Come in, please. Allow me to take your suitcase and accompany to your room. Then I will introduce you to your patient.”

  
So, Will and Rebeca went upstairs and left the suitcase on the bed at the end of the corridor. When they finished, Will knocked on Hannibal’s room door. The psychiatrist, dressed in his striped pyjamas, was reading a book lying on the bed.

  
“No, don’t get up, doctor Lecter.” Said Rebeca shaking Hannibal’s hand. “I am Rebeca Fitzgerald. Your friend Will has asked me to take care of you for a while, because you don’t want to go to the hospital.”

  
“Thank you.”

  
“I will be at your disposal for whatever you need. Mister Graham has lent me the adjacent room, so you just have to call me.” Rebeca took a chair and sat next to the bed. “I think I should talk you about me. I am twenty-seven years old and I have been a nurse for two years. My hobbies are horse riding, dominoes and, above all, cooking.”

  
Will smiled.

  
“Now you have something to talk about.” He said. “Hannibal is an excellent cook.”

  
“Really?”

  
“My friend exaggerates.” Said Hannibal. “It’s a hobby like any other.”

  
Rebeca let a laughter escape and opened her bag.

  
“Where I can place my instruments?”

  
“I think in those shelves.” Said Will, pointing at the piece of furniture which was beside the door. “All right, Han?”

  
Hannibal nodded and Rebeca took from her case a stethoscope, many needles and syringes, gauzes, a steel tray and a topaz coloured bottle with a white label written with blue letters.

  
“Oh!” Will whispered, trying Hannibal not to hear him. “Morphine?”

“Don’t worry, mister Graham. It is a very low dose.”

  
And she placed the bottle in the third shelf, next to a porcelain figure.

* * *

  
A month passed. Hannibal was accepting his state little by little, but the situation was each time harder to stand for Will. He couldn’t believe he was going to lose his best friend and lover. Rebeca watched over both, giving support. Despite everything, Will started to become depressed.  
One day, Rebeca and he got together in the kitchen.

  
“Mister Graham…” She started saying. “… I want to tell you something.”

  
Will, unable to pronounce any sound because of his nervousness, indicated her to proceed with a shake of his head.

  
“Look now, mister Graham. I can take care of both of you at a physical level. But what worries me is your mental state. I know this is a very difficult moment. But if you must try to cheer up and, that way, your friend will cheer also. You understand me, don’t you?” Will nodded. “All right. I am going to visit Hannibal. Would you like to accompany me?”

  
Will nodded again and Rebeca and he went to Hannibal’s room, where he was writing in his diary:

  
“Monday, 20th February:  
It’s morning, very early, and I am in pain.”

  
Hannibal underlined the last word, sighed and carried on writing:

  
“Will and Rebeca take turns to care of me. My friend isn’t well. It bothers me I can’t do nothing for him.”

  
Just when he finished writing this last word, Will knocked on the door. Hannibal took off his slippers and lied down on the bed again.

  
“Good morning, doctor Lecter.” Said Rebeca, getting nearer to him. “I’m going to give you a bath and make you a check-up.”

  
And she put a soapy sponge, some towels and his instrumental in a tray. First, he placed everything in the chest of drawers and asked Will for a hot water jug.

“At last I can do something useful for him.” The young man thought sadly while he was going to the kitchen.

  
He took a silver metal jug and filled it with hot water from the faucet. When he finished, he returned to the bedroom, where he found Hannibal crying bitterly.

  
“Han, old friend!” Will whispered hugging him.

  
Crying gave way to a heart-breaking pain scream. Hannibal tightened his fists and teeth.

  
“Help me!” He yelled. “Is no one going to help me?”

  
For Will that was too much to stand and he had to look the other way. It seemed that someone was pulling up Hannibal’s soul, judging by the shrieks he uttered.

  
“Will! Will! You damned moron! Come here!”

  
The young man didn’t know if it was his friend or the pain speaking. He decided to take the second option and took him by the hand.

Some minutes later, Hannibal could calm down. He breathed deeply and said: “Now I feel better.” Then, Will kissed his forehead and moistened the sponge in the tray.

  
“Rebeca is here for that, Will.”

  
The young man smiled shyly.

  
“I don’t mind.”

  
“I think a while ago I have said horrible things to you.” Said the psychiatrist. “I want you to know that I didn’t mean it.”

  
“I know. Do you want us to wash you a bit? Shall we put you some clean pyjamas?”

  
Hannibal nodded. That night he had sleep with his robe on the pyjamas and the garment was out of his place.

  
“First, we are going to take this out.” Said Will, unrolling his robe’s belt. “You remind me of a badly tied package.”

  
Rebeca smiled at Will’s words and started to unbutton the psychiatrist’s pyjamas shirt before placing an underpad and an oilcloth in the bed and wetting the sponge in the tray.

  
“Are you ready, doctor Lecter? Here we go!”

Will and Rebeca’s hands went over Hannibal’s mature and withered body from the feet to the neck.

  
“We are going to wash your hair.” Said Will. “Bend yourself a bit to the bed’s edge.”

  
Rebeca placed the oilcloth under Hannibal’s head. Some days before, Will, to make the task easier, had bought a small blue plastic sprinkling can. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.” He had told Rebeca.

  
When he felt Will’s fingers massaging his scalp, Hannibal couldn’t repress a pleasure groan.

  
“That’s it.” Will whispered. “Good boy.”

  
He poured a drop of shampoo in his fingertips and continued with the massage. When Will finished, Rebeca watered Hannibal and wrapped his head in a small towel.

  
“Here we are.” She said, going to the wardrobe and taking a dark blue silk pyjamas.

  
He unbuttoned the grey cord frog buttons and started dressing her patient. Will brushed Hannibal’s hair with a silver comb.

  
“We are going downstairs.” Said Will giving Hannibal his hand. “To walk a little. What do you think, Rebeca?”

  
The nurse nodded and accompanied the two men. Hannibal had spent so much time lying on the bed that Rebeca had to massage his legs to prevent him from falling when he stood up. She put on him his black velvet slippers and his coat and took him by the arm.

  
“Bravo, Han!” His friend said.

  
Weakness nearly didn’t allow Hannibal to stand up, so he walked resting his hand on Will’s shoulder.

  
“Easy does it!” Said Rebeca while Hannibal put his feet on the stair’s steps. For him, that had spent so much time without walking because of his illness, that stroll was a big event.

  
At least they arrived at the hall. The fireplace was lit and on the table, were  plates covered by hemispherical silver metal lids, carved champagne glasses, silver cutlery and embroidered white linen serviettes matching the tablecloth.

  
“You are not vegetarian. Are you, Rebeca?” Said Will.

  
“No. Why?”

  
Hannibal couldn’t control his laughter when he heard his friend. He took the lids off the plates and discovered that his friend had roasted a duck and had accompanied with orange sauce, dried figs and walnuts.

  
“What a delight, Will!” Said the psychiatrist, removing the cork from a champagne bottle before pouring the drink in the glasses.

  
“Oh!” Said Rebeca. “I prefer water, doctor Lecter. I am not allowed to drink while I am working.”

  
“But this is a celebration, Rebeca.” Said Will. “Consider it your free time.”

  
She smiled and gave a sip to her cup.

  
“All right. But don’t tell the matron.”

  
Will placed his finger on his lips.

  
“Don’t you worry.” Said Hannibal. “Cheers!”

  
Brunch went by with no shock until exhaustion marked Hannibal and they decided to go back to the room. While Will and the psychiatrist were going upstairs, Rebeca changed the bed linen. The two men arrived just when she was finishing. Will took off his friend’s slippers and helped him to lie down. When he turned his head, Hannibal saw a book over the nightstand.

  
“Shall we read for a while?” The psychiatrist nodded. “Here I go!”

  
The Lake Isle of Innisfree by William Butler Yeats  
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,  
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;  
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,  
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.  
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,  
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;  
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,  
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.  
I will arise and go now, for always night and day  
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;  
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,  
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

Hannibal smiled at the end.  
“Someday we will go to Ireland, won’t we?”  
“Yes, of course.” Said Will, repressing his tears. “Someday.”

* * *

  
That night was a storm. Will couldn’t stand the thundering sound. He placed his hand on his ears and squirmed in the bed, died of fright. At the end, he decided to stand up, put his slippers on and go to Hannibal’s room. He opened the door and observed the psychiatrist, who was lying at the light of a few blue candles in a candlestick. The young man got nearer to the bed and kissed his eyelids, which caused that Hannibal opened his eyes.

  
“Can I stay with you?” Will asked him. “I’m frightened.”

  
Hannibal nodded and made him a space in the bed.

  
It was then when Will realized that Hannibal was sleeping naked. He observed his mature, elegant and sensual body from his chest to his waistline. And there it was, as slippery as an eel, Hannibal’s cock, which Will wanted to own so much. He hugged him with all his strength before kissing his eyelids. Hannibal took of his glasses with his teeth, which provoked a fit of laughter, silenced by the psychiatrist, who put two of his fingers on the boy’s lips. Will took advantage of it by passing the point of his tongue between his fingertips before getting near to him and kiss his lips with tiny kisses.

  
When they finished, Will felt asleep with his head resting on Hannibal’s chest, listening to the beating of his heart... A heart that very soon would stop.

* * *

  
Spring arrived. Hannibal, dressed in his pyjamas, observed the garden trees. Good weather made him sad. His illness advanced, damaging his body and shredding his soul little by little. The moment was close.

  
One day, Will and Rebeca entered his room. The nurse had a white paper bag between her hands. Seconds before she started his chore, Will took Hannibal’s hand.

  
“Rebeca is going to catheterize you, Han.” He said very slowly. “I’m really sorry, but there is no other remedy. Breathe. Just breathe. It will be done in a minute.”

  
Rebeca put herself a pair of rubber gloves and started her work. Will grabbed tight his friend’s hand.

  
At last, after some moments distressing, the nurse finished and left the room while Will kissed Hannibal’s hair and whispered, repressing his tears: “Good boy.”

* * *

  
It was the following week when Rebeca started to administrate morphine to Hannibal. When Will saw the nurse with the syringe in her hand, his heart sank.

  
“Now?” It was the only word he could articulate.

  
“I’m afraid so, mister Graham. Or do you prefer your friend being in pain?”

  
“Oh, no! Never!” He exclaimed. “But it is so early…”

  
And from his eyes tears started to well up.

  
“Don’t you worry.” Said Rebeca hugging him. “Remember: Is a very low dose. Besides, if you are with me, he will feel more secure.”

  
The nurse took the syringe and the glass bottle, came into Hannibal’s bedroom and got nearer to the bed.

  
“Rebeca is going to give you an injection, Han.” Said Will, taking him by the hand while she was getting ready. Seconds later, Rebeca pricked the point of the needle in his forearm skin and started pushing the piston very slowly. Will had to face the wall to prevent his friend seeing he was crying again. He took the jug and excused himself saying he was going to bring fresh water for Hannibal. When he arrived at the kitchen, he could at last cry as he never had done it.

  
“He is dying. He is dying. He is dying.” He whispered while he hit his head against the wall until he bled. “He is dying and here I am, acting like a fool.”

  
Rebeca, when she heard the noises, went to the kitchen and saw Will sitting on the floor, with his forehead covered in blood and crying like mad.

  
“Mister Graham?” She said, kneeling beside him.

  
“He is dying. He is dying. He is dying.”

  
He repeated those words like if he was praying. Rebeca took him by the hand and made him to follow her to the living room, where they both sat on the sofa. She started talking to the young man in a very soft voice while she cleaned his wound.

“Please, mister Graham, you must calm yourself.”

  
“You say so because you are not going to lose your best friend. For you is a patient like any other.”

  
Rebeca took him by the hand.

  
“You think nurses don’t weep for our patients when they are gone?” She said. “You are wrong. Hannibal is not the first dying man I must take care of. We excuse ourselves in our uniforms, but you and me are not so different.”

  
Will breathed deeply and hugged the nurse.

  
“I am sorry.” He said. “I am really sorry.”

  
And he started crying again. Rebeca smiled while she wiped away his tears with her handkerchief.

  
“Something you can’t do now is give up, mister Graham.” Said the nurse. “It’s hard to be friends with someone who is at this condition, but I want you to know that is one of the noblest things you will do in your life.”

  
As an only answer, Rebeca received a smile. But Will’s eyes exuded sadness.

* * *

  
Will and Hannibal slept together that night. Around three in the morning, the psychiatrist woke up to look for a glass of water. When he lifted the jug, an atrocious pain invaded him. He had trouble breathing and let the jug fall, which broke into pieces. Will woke up because of the noise and helped his friend to lie down before going to Rebeca’s room.  
He breathed deeply and knocked on the door.

  
“Rebeca?” Said Will, desperate. “Rebeca?”

  
She putted on his coat and slippers hurriedly and opened the door.

  
“Good evening, mister Graham.”

  
“It’s Hannibal.” He said, panting. “He is worse. He breathes in a very strange way.”

  
The nurse and Will got out the room and went to Hannibal’s. The young man opened the door. The picture inside devastated him. Hannibal was lying on the bed, gasping and sweating. Will sighed and took him by the hand strongly while Rebeca applied cold towels on his forehead. After some minutes of calm, shrieks returned. Hannibal hold onto the headboard bars, wrecked because of pain. He stood up on the bed and, after a series of screams, he collapsed on the pillows with his eyes opened.

  
Rebeca got nearer to the bed, kneeled and took Hannibal’s wrist while the clock struck four.

  
“He has died.” She declared.

  
It was Will who handled to close Hannibal’s eyes. Then, he crouched and took a squared cardboard box from underneath the bed. He opened the lid and took a white linen nightgown from the inside. He unfolded it and put it on the bed. Rebeca was looking at the garment for a few seconds before saying:

  
“It is a beautiful shroud, mister Graham.”

  
Will couldn’t stand more and started to cry.

  
“Just one more thing, Rebeca.” He whispered. “We won’t call the undertakers until some days pass. I want to keep vigil over him.”

  
The nurse smiled sadly.

  
“It is comprehensible.” She said.

  
Will sat on the bed and took Hannibal’s hand. He kissed him and said in a very soft voice:

  
“We are something more than friends. Something more than husbands.”

* * *

  
Will spent the next five days hugging his friend. He cried until he dehydrated. He couldn’t eat nor sleep. Each time Rebeca tried to speak to him, he locked the bedroom’s door and lied on the bed next to Hannibal. The nurse didn’t know what to do. One day, in an act of desperation, he started in the psychiatrist papers to look for the address of someone who could help them. The searching was fruitful, because about half an hour later, he found a business card in laid paper in a drawer of the hall’s cupboard. In it, with italics elegant, was written the name, address and telephone number of Bedelia. She breathed deeply, lifted the phone’s headset and started to dial the numbers.  
After introducing herself, she started telling the problem to the psychiatrist.

  
“He is going to die, doctor Du Maurier.” Said Rebeca, panting because of the nerves. “He has been getting down for five days. I didn’t know who I could call. Mister Graham doesn’t leave him and he doesn’t want to bury him.”

“I’m going to talk to him immediately, nurse Fitzgerald.” Said Bedelia in a severe voice from the other side of the line. “Wait for me, please.”

  
About half an hour later, Bedelia arrived at Hannibal’s house. Rebeca opened the door, but she was incapable of saying a word, because she was so nervous.

  
“Don’t you worry.” Said Bedelia in a soft voice. “You wait for me outside the room. I will call you if I need you.”

  
When they arrived upstairs, Bedelia knocked on Hannibal’s bedroom door.

  
“Go away, Rebeca!” Will said sharply.

  
“I am doctor Du Maurier, mister Graham. I came to see Hannibal.”

  
Will didn’t answer. Seconds later, Bedelia pushed the door and managed to open it. When she came into the room, she saw the young man hugging his friend. The scene moved the psychiatrist, but she put the reason ahead of her feelings. She breathed deeply and observed the corpse. It had marks big in its hands.

  
“Mister Graham, it doesn’t make any sense.” She said in a soft, bur severe voice. “He is starting to decompose.”

  
“And what shall I do? Leave him in… in the darkness and live with the idea that I am not going to see him again? No! I’m staying with him!”

  
Then, Will got up of the bed. He pushed Bedelia outside the room and closed the door with a slam. She moved her head. Some minutes later, she opened the door and found Will hugging the corpse again.

  
“Mister Graham…” She whispered taking him by the hand. “… You are the most rational man I have ever met, but no you’re not being it.” She sighed and continued talking very slowly. “He’s gone. He isn’t here.”

  
It was then when Will collapsed. His eyes went red and he started to cry. After a conversation brief, Bedelia hugged him before leaving the room. Rebeca was waiting for her, sitting down in the corridor.

  
“That’s it. He has consented to bury him tomorrow in the afternoon.”

  
Rebeca couldn’t repress herself. She took a handkerchief from his apron pocket and wiped off her tears before standing up and hug the psychiatrist.

  
“Oh!” She exclaimed. “Bless you, doctor Du Maurier.”

* * *

  
At sunset, Will told Rebeca she could take a free night and that she would help him calling the undertakers the next day. Then, the young man went upstairs to Hannibal’s room and entered the bathroom. He filled the bathtub with hot water after adding a stream of soap and a handful generous of myrrh aromatic salts.

  
He got naked slowly while the water splashed the bathtub’s walls with a monotone sound. Once he had taken off all his clothes, he lied down in the water. The house was as quiet as a tomb, the silence only broken by the water dripping. Will gave a glance to the body which rested on the bed. It was then when he made a decision.

  
Will stood up and went off the bathtub. After drying himself with his towel, he came into Hannibal’s room and opened the wardrobe. He took a white shirt and a maroon velvet suit with the neck in black silk and started to dress himself. His soul ached.

  
On the nightstand, as a hunter hiding in the brush, Will saw the morphine bottle. Suddenly, the pain became unbearable, making the young man scream. He took a big syringe, filled it completely and, after giving some taps to the tube, he breathed deeply. With tears in his eyes, he sat on the bed and directed the needle thin and sharped to his arm.

* * *

  
Bedelia and Rebeca came the next morning accompanied by two undertakers. The nurse knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Puzzled, Bedelia took for the first time a copy of the key that Hannibal had gave to her years before.

  
The quartet came into the house and went upstairs. Rebeca knocked on Hannibal’s bedroom door, but there was no answer either, so she decided to come in with the psychiatrist. When he saw the scene, the nurse made the sign of the Cross.

  
“The morphine!” She whispered when she found the empty bottle on the nightstand. “I should have imagined. I should…”

  
Bedelia shook her head and put her hand on Rebeca’s shoulder.

  
“Don’t blame yourself, nurse Fitzgerald.” She said. “Even if we were here all night, possibly we could not have avoided it. Now they are at peace.”

  
Then, Bedelia opened the window’s curtains, letting the torrents of sunshine enter the room. That light stirred the embers of hope still in Rebeca’s soul. She smiled sadly when she saw the undertakers go with the corpses.

  
“Yes, doctor Du Maurier.” She said. “Now they are at peace.”

  
THE END


End file.
